The Surgeon's Debt: Bound To The Tycoon

The rain was torrential. It hammered against the windows of the Crane library like bullets.

Abraham sat in his leather armchair, gripping the armrests.

Pain level: 9.

It felt like someone was pouring molten lead down his spine.

"Sir," the new assistant, a Harvard graduate named Timothy, stammered. He held the syringe with shaking hands.

"Just do it," Abraham gritted out.

Timothy stepped forward. He aimed for the vein. He missed. He grazed the skin, causing a bloom of blood.

"Ah!" Abraham roared, sweeping his arm out.

He knocked the tray of medical supplies to the floor. Glass vials shattered.

"Get out!" he screamed. "Get out!"

Timothy ran.

Mercer stepped out of the shadows. "I'll call Dr. Evans."

"No!" Abraham gasped, sweat dripping from his nose. "Evans talks. The board will know."

"Sir, you need-"

"I need her."

"She won't answer my calls."

Abraham closed his eyes. The pain was blinding white light behind his eyelids.

"Send it," he whispered.

"Sir?"

"The notification. The nursing home."

Mercer hesitated, then nodded.

Elida was eating pizza with Preston in his office, laughing about a faculty dispute.

Her phone buzzed.

An email. From the Crane Foundation.

Subject: Grant Revocation Notice.

Dear Miss Adkins, effective immediately, the charitable grant covering the care of Mrs. Elena Adkins at Pineview Facility has been terminated.

Attached was a bill for $45,000. Due in 24 hours. Or she would be evicted.

The slice of pizza dropped from her hand.

"Elida?" Preston asked.

"I have to go."

She ran out into the rain. She didn't wait for a cab. She ran to the subway.

Forty minutes later, she was standing in the foyer of Crane Manor. She was soaked to the bone, water pooling around her cheap sneakers.

Mercer was there. He looked ashamed. "I'm sorry."

"Where is he?"

"Library."

She marched in.

Abraham was curled on the sofa. He looked small. Broken.

Her anger was a roaring fire, but seeing him like that... the doctor in her took over.

She walked to the medical cabinet. She unlocked it with the code only she knew.

She prepped a new syringe.

She walked over to him. She didn't speak. She grabbed his arm roughly.

He opened his eyes. They were hazy with pain, but he saw her.

"You came," he whispered.

She swabbed his arm. "You threatened my mother."

She inserted the needle. Perfect angle. Smooth delivery.

She pushed the plunger.

"You're a monster," she said calmly.

He let out a long breath as the drug hit his system. His muscles relaxed.

"I know," he said.

He reached out, his fingers brushing her wet sleeve.

"Stay," he said. "I'll pay double. Triple. Just until the wedding."

She pulled her arm away. "Get your fiancée-decoy to do it."

"She can't."

"Teach her."

"She's not you."

He looked at her, his eyes clearing.

"Nobody is you, Elida."

"That's your problem, Abraham. Not mine."

She turned to leave.

"If you walk out," he said, his voice gaining strength, "the grant stays cancelled."

She stopped. She hated him. She hated him so much it burned.

"Fine," she spat. "I stay. Until the wedding. Then I take the money and I disappear."

"Agreed."